


A Cure for Pain

by punkrockgaia



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Frottage, M/M, Pork rinds, Skipping School, Smoking, parental abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come over."</p><p>"... Do you know what time it is?"</p><p>"Late?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cure for Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set after the events implied in the WtNV episode "Cassette." Earl and Cecil are both in high school, Earl 17 and Cecil 16 going on 17. The title is from the Morphine song "Cure for Pain," mostly because it's been stuck in my head the entire time I've written this story... :)

It was a Sunday, and Earl had just begun to drift off when he heard the phone ring. His eyes flew open. Who would be calling at this hour? He thought of his elderly grandparents, his aunts and uncles and cousins, Scoutmaster Washington. Late night calls were never good news. He heard the heavy footsteps of his father plod down the hallway, then stop in front of his room. The steps were followed by a sharp knock. Earl jumped out from under his blankets and opened his door.

"Yes, Dad?" His father looked disheveled and grumpy. If mountains were real, Earl thought they would be a lot like his dad -- big and unchanging and just _there_.

"Phone's for you. S'Cecil."

"Oh! Thanks, Dad."

"'N tell 'im not to call so late."

"Will do, Sir." Earl pulled on a sweatshirt and headed down the hallway, then down the stairs to the ivory-colored phone on the little table at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey."

"Early Bird?"

"Hi, CeeCee."

A breath that sounded like it had been held in for a while, though Earl knew that it couldn't have been. "Come over."

"Cee, my parents are gonna kill me. Do you know what time it is?"

"Late?"

"Yeah."

"So what?"

"So go to bed."

"I can't sleep."

"Try."

"I have tried. Come over."

"We have school tomorrow. Remember? Or have you forgotten?"

"No."

"You going?"

"I want to."

"Well, then, go."

"If you come over, I'll go with you."

"Geez, Ceese."

"C'mon. Come over, I'll set the alarm, we'll go together, okay?"

Earl groaned and thumped his head gently against the stairwell. "Just set the alarm and go to school yourself. I'll see you there."

"You know I won't be there. That's okay, Birdy. I'll see you never, okay?"

"STOP! Cee, just be cool for a minute, okay, will you?" Earl groaned and dragged his hand through his hair. "Frig. Okay, I'll be over in a few, just hang loose, okay?"

A sigh with the heat of a sandstorm sweeping out of the desert. "Okay. I'll be at the front door."

Earl took a deep breath, then replaced the phone silently on the cradle. He could sneak out, but he'd have to be quiet. He started to tiptoe up the stairs when he was stopped by the wide, comfy, sofa-like form of his Momma, seated just south of the top landing.

"Earl?"

"Yeah, Momma?"

"Where you going?"

"Cecil's, if it's okay with you."

"You and him, are you, uh, an item? Or whatever you kids call it."

"What you mean, Momma?"

"If you and him are a couple, well, it's not proper for you to go over and spend the night. You need a chaperone. He can come over here and stay in the guest room, but... _Are_ you and him an item?"

Earl paused. That was a hard question to answer. No, he and Cecil were not "an item" as it were. But they were doing stuff that would cause a chaperone to step in, for sure, had been for years. But he couldn't ask him to come over. Even before everything had happened, Cecil had been squirrelly about hanging out with the large, slow moving, loving Harlans. And now? Well, now he acted like he was allergic to anything that was nice or cozy. So, Earl answered honestly.

"No, Momma, we aren't dating or anything. He's my best friend, that's all. He needs me."

She nodded. "Okay, Earl. Someone needs you, you go."

"Thanks, Momma. I'll be home later tonight, I promise."

Earl hugged her, then decided to stay in his pajamas and turned around and started toward the door. As he did, she called out to him.

"Hey, Earl?"

"Yes, Momma?"

"Remember Pickles?"

Earl nodded. "Yeah, Momma." 

Pickles was the cat. The next door neighbor had run her over accidentally.

"Remember how Daddy was trying to help her, but she took Daddy's thumb off?"

"Yes, Momma."

"You know Pickles didn't mean it, right? You know that sometimes things get... hurt... and they lash out and they don't mean what they do."

"Yes, Momma."

"Okay, Son. Just think on that. Give Cecil my love, okay? And make sure you both make it to class tomorrow."

"I'll be home later tonight."

"Just make it to school, that's all I ask."

"Yes, Momma."

Cecil's apartment was close to the Harlan house, even closer than his family's house had been, and Earl closed the distance in a matter of ten minutes on his bike. He stepped up on the front porch of the old building and saw a familiar face framed in the glass of front door. Cecil looked so relieved, Earl knew he'd made the right choice in coming over. 

As Earl got to the threshold, Cecil flung the door open and folded himself around him. 

"Thank you," he breathed.

"You're welcome. But you need to go to bed and we need to go to school in the morning, okay?"

Cecil held up three fingers. "On my honor."

Earl glared. "Don't make fun, Cee."

Cecil clung to Earl, his bony torso shivering violently. "Oh, Geezus, sorry, Birdy. Can we go upstairs? I'm freezing."

"Well, then, why are you in your underwear?"

"I have to do laundry, if you must know. Now can we get up to my room before I die of hypothermia?"

"Fine. I'm not staying the night, by the way."

"We'll see."

Cecil grabbed Earl by the hand, then led him up the stairs, down the hall, and to his studio apartment. He inserted a twisted black key into the lock, opened the door, then went inside. Earl stepped through the door behind him and stopped short.

The last time he'd been to Cecil's place, the little apartment had been crammed to the rafters with all the detritus from his old house. Now the main room held nothing but an old portable TV set, rabbit ears and all, a transistor radio, an old wind-up alarm clock, and a mattress on the floor with a single pillow and a pile of sheets and blankets. In front of the mattress were an ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle that read "Old Reliable."

Cecil flopped down on the mattress, facing the TV. "C'mon, Birdy. They're showing 'Rio Bravo.'" He held the blanket out and nodded.

Earl hesitated in the doorway. "What happened to all your stuff, Cee?"

Cecil hoisted the bottle to his lips, then drank. After he had swallowed, he looked Earl in the eyes. 

"I got bored today, so I took it down to the dumpster. I'm forgetting. Just like I'm supposed to. Aren't I a good boy?" He giggled and drank again, then flopped against the flattened pillow. "C'mere, it's getting to the good part."

Earl shut the door and kicked off his shoes, then lay down next to Cecil on the thin mattress. Cecil molded himself to him like he was made of hot taffy, grabbing Earl's arm and wrapping it around himself. They watched the movie in silence for a while. Cecil picked up the bottle, took another drink, and handed it to Earl. Earl sniffed at it suspiciously. The smell singed the inside of his nostrils.

"Eeuch. What is this stuff supposed to be?"

"Scotch. I'm worldly and sophisticated."

"How'd you get it, anyway? You're not old enough to buy cigarettes, much less this paint thinner."

"You'd be surprised with what people let you get away with when they feel sorry for you." Cecil grunted and wiggled back into Earl's arms. 

Earl didn't have anything to say to that. People _did_ feel sorry for Cecil. And they let him get away with things. Certain Boy Scouts did, for example. 

"Did you eat today?"

"Yup." Cecil held up a half-empty "family size" bag of "Mister Crunchy Nuggets" brand pork rinds. "The breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions, my friend."

"You know, you don't have to eat that trash. You could have gone to Josie's house, probably, or you could've come over to my house. You know Momma loves to feed you."

"I didn't feel like it. Hold me closer."

"I physically can't hold you any closer than I am right now."

"Take your shirt off."

Earl faltered for a moment, then complied. Cecil let out a little sigh of satisfaction as skin met skin. Earl tried to distract himself from the fact that he was in his pajama pants and Cecil was in his boxer shorts. 

"I'll have to go home soon," he murmured, pale fingers tracing over the swirling purple tattoos that covered Cecil's arms, shoulders and back, feeling the muscles underneath tense.

"You just got here."

"Yeah, but school."

"Yeah, I know. I go there too, remember?"

"Do you? I think I only saw you one day last week."

Cecil grunted and rolled away from him. "Didn't feel like going," he mumbled. 

"But Cecil, you need to go. You're gonna fail out."

Cecil was quiet for a moment, then he spoke very slowly and carefully. "Everybody thinks they know what's best for me and I'm getting fucking sick and tired of it."

"CeeCee, no, I --"

"Yeah, yeah you do. You and Josie and that stupid fat family of yours and fucking Rico and Teddy goddamn fucking Williams, probably, everybody has opinions about me, and I'm fucking sick of it."

"I'm sorry..."

"Just go. Go. You don't care about me, not the real me. Get out of here."

"But CeeCee..."

"Go. I hate you."

Earl thought of Pickles and realized he wasn't in any mood to lose a thumb. He started to get up off of the mattress. As he picked up his sweatshirt, Cecil curled into himself and began to sob. 

"I knew it. I knew you'd abandon me."

Earl sighed and lay back down and pulled his trembling friend to his body.

"Shh, CeeCee, don't cry, I'm not abandoning you. I won't leave."

"So fucking lonely," he whispered into Earl's chest. "Scared..."

Earl stroked his hair. "I know, Cee, but don't worry. I'm here. I won't leave you."

"Everyone leaves," he said, miserably. "Everyone."

"No, Cee, I promise..."

He rocked him back and forth, meaning to comfort, but, after all, they were young and mostly undressed and full of hormones, and soon the motion transformed from soothing to something much more primal. Cecil, tears still squeezing out of the corners of his eyes, wrapped a leg around Earl's hips and pulled him closer, hips rutting against him. Earl groaned and responded in kind, finally allowing himself to feel the arousal that had been building in him as soon as he'd felt his shivering body in the entranceway of the apartment building. Cecil was all over him, frantic, desperate, pressing vehement kisses across his eyelids, his cheeks, his jaw, whispering all the while. 

"Don't leave, please, stay with me, fucking stay, please, Early, please..."

"I will, I'll stay, I'll stay, I promise. Ohhh, Cee..."

"Stay stay stay stay," Cecil mumbled, almost insensate, like a chant.

"I will, I will."

Their pelvises shifted in a wild push-pull-push, grunts and moans spilling forth as they rubbed against each other. 

"Oh, Cecil, oh..."

"Stay stay stay stay..."

Earl's fingers grasped Cecil's hips with bruising pressure, clinging desperately in the gale of Cecil's boundless, howling need, hoping he could just keep his body together through all the monstrous shuddering that was overtaking his bones. Cecil thrust against him faster and faster, until everything inside of Earl compressed, then exploded in a ball of white-hot molten iron plasma, barely registering as Cecil screamed and bit down onto his shoulder. He couldn't tell if it was his body or Cecil's that quivered so, until he decided that they were both vibrating together, the twin tines of a tuning fork.

Cecil was the first to move, bringing up a hand to cup the back of Earl's head, kissing him gently. "Stay," he breathed again.

"I will," Earl assured him. "I just need to get up to use the latrine, okay?"

"All right," Cecil sulked. "Come back soon, though."

"I will. Do you have a pair of pants I could borrow? These are kinda sticky and gross."

"Mmm pile's in the closet." Cecil fidgeted around and then dropped his own sticky shorts outside the blankets, then snuggled down until only a tuft of platinum hair was visible. Earl went to the closet and picked through the pile of clothes inside until he found a pair of reasonably-clean NVHS PE uniform sweats, then pulled them on. They didn't fit quite right, as Cecil was both taller and wispier than he was, but it was better than wearing a pair of pajama pants loaded down with ejaculate. He pulled his hoodie over his head, shoved his feet into his shoes, and went down the hallway to the shared bathroom, taking Cecil's key with him. He took a moment in there, having a piss and washing up in the dingy sink. Then, instead of heading back to Cecil's apartment, he went down the stairs and out the back door to where the dumpsters were kept. 

Out in the moonlight, he saw what he was hoping to see. Cecil had been too lazy to actually throw all the boxes from the house into the dumpster; he'd just stacked them up alongside. Earl opened up the first one, hoping that it wouldn't take him too long to find what he was looking for. 

The Gods must have been with him that night, as it only took him about half an hour to find an armload of stuff to bring back to the apartment. He reluctantly closed the lid on the last box, wishing he could bring more, but he didn't want to be gone for too long. 

On the way back through the foyer, he stopped, putting down his load and picking up a leaf of the nearest potted plant, exposing the microphone and speaker underneath.

"Hello, Sheriff's Secret Police?"

"Yes, what is your emergency?" crackled the speaker.

"Uh, not, not an emergency, exactly. It's uh... It's Earl Harlan. I'm friends with Cecil Palmer, you know, the boy who, uh..."

"Yes, we're familiar with Mr. Palmer. What about him?"

"He's uh, he's not healing right, I don't think. I think he needs some extra help."

"All right, Mr. Harlan. We'll be right over to pick him up."

"No! I mean, can't it wait until morning? I made a promise to him."

"Well, that is rather unusual..."

"Come on, please? I'm going to be Scoutmaster some day. I can't break a promise to a friend. And he's sleeping, and he's a rattlesnake when you wake him up. It'll be more trouble for you than it's worth. Please?" He was aware that he was whining, but couldn't help himself.

Apparently whining worked. A sigh. "Oh, all right. We'll schedule a pick up first thing in the morning. Early."

For a moment, Earl thought that the SSP officer was using his nickname, then realized he was just talking about time. "O-okay. Thanks."

"Thank you for being a good citizen."

Earl replaced the leaf and felt vaguely guilty, but he couldn't allow Cecil to go on as he had been. He picked up the pile of stuff and struggled back up to the apartment. He let himself in, then set about arranging the things he'd brought.

First: A soft, blue baby blanket, monogrammed with "CGP" in one corner. This went on top of Cecil. 

He put the rest of the stuff where Cecil could see it when he woke up, or when the SSP brought him back home, whenever that might be. He wanted him to remember.

Second: A photograph showing a sad-eyed woman with a flower crown holding a somber little infant. The photograph had been crudely cropped to remove someone from the right side of the picture.

Third: A large book entitled "NVCR: A Pictorial History," with a personalized inscription from Leonard Burton inside the front cover.

Fourth: A shoebox filled with cassette tapes labeled "Cecil Radio Test Age: 15" in his friend's spidery handwriting.

Finally: Another photograph, showing two young boys in Boy Scout uniforms helping Old Woman Josie across the street. One was ginger and pale, and the other one was darker with hair the color of moonlight.

That task completed, Earl picked up the covers and lay down behind Cecil, exhausted. He pressed a kiss to the skin just behind Cecil's ear, then set the alarm clock. He'd be going to school in the morning, though Cecil wouldn't. He cuddled close to Cecil, then, in a soft voice, sang him a single verse of an old Night Vale lullaby:

_Hush little baby, don't say a word,_  
Try to forget about what you heard,  
But if you can't it'll be just fine,  
Sheriff's gonna bring you a whole new mind. 

Cecil shifted a bit in his sleep. Earl pressed his nose to the back of Cecil's head, breathed deeply (cheap booze and stale tobacco smoke, but underneath that cotton candy flavored with myrrh), then fell into a thick, dreamless sleep. A Scout keeps his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Come howl at the void with me at punkrockgaia.tumblr.com!


End file.
